Between Pawns
by ragnarokloki444
Summary: Pawns: emotionless wanderers drifting from one world to the next. How do they interact with their fellows, and how does the Arisen affect them? A deeper look into the psychology of these mysterious beings. (contains game spoilers)
1. Chapter 1

Ozias's finger traced the rim of the tankard, one revolution after another. Around him, the buzz of the other patrons, accompanied by the clinks and thuds of plates and cups, filled the dim interior of one of the taverns tucked away in Venery. He much preferred the comfort of the pawn guild to this place, but the only reason he was here was because of his master. Here, the distance between them wasn't as great.

"I have an errand at the duke's castle," the Arisen had said, handing him a pouch of coin. "I do not want you to be bored. Go and relax."

"'Tis well after dark now, Master. No one would be allowed there at this hour. What if you're caught?"

She gave him a wry smile. "Don't worry about me. I'll be off, then. And take that big oaf with you."

Ozias lifted his gaze. Said big oaf sat facing him, gnawing at the remains of a steak. Two other plates with sauce-stained bones were already stacked to the side. Such incredible appetite.

The big oaf was nowhere near the namesake given to him by the Arisen. Tall indeed and rippling with strength, but certainly not an oaf. The sword and shield propped up next to his chair was the reason she'd hired him.

Laughter swelled up among a group of men at another table, and Ozias studied them with eyes of green. Human expressions and behaviour intrigued him to no end, and Gran Soren provided him with a wealth of people to observe. But he could never quite understand what caused them to act the way they did, with all the eccentricities and quirks that came from beings bearing emotions. Surely joy and happiness needn't be announced with such uproarious noise. Should it not be enough just to feel it? Instead they wanted to share such feelings with others, to share their state of mind. Strange indeed.

"Hey, you!" A greasy hand smacked his shoulder.

He looked up, and the glinting eyes of five men leered back at him. 'Twas not a good situation, judging from the cobbled-together armour on their bodies, their rugged faces, and the stench of ale wafting from their mouths.

"Ah, so they _do_ respond after all!" the first man slurred. "And I thought these blighters let you push them around."

"You haven't pushed yet," grunted a second.

"Right!"

With that, the man shoved Ozias. A grab at the table saved him from toppling over in his chair. The hilt of one of his daggers pressed against his hip.

The man stuck out his lower lip. "Shoulda kissed the floor."

"Try again, harder!"

Ozias simply looked at them and evaluated his options. Leaving was the easiest. Just return to the inn, and wait for his master to finish her errand. If he got in trouble with the city guards, he would only displease her.

The man leaned forward again—and his head snapped violently to one side, sending him tumbling into an unconscious heap on the floor. Ozias's companion rose to his feet, flexing his wrist.

"That's enough," Muramasa said.

"Oi, oi…" One of the thugs hunkered down, the hiss of steel accompanying his words. "You don't know your place, do you?"

Muramasa narrowed his eyes, cocked his head, and…smiled. In a wicked sort of way. "No, I do not."

The remaining men drew their weapons, steel shining in the light. "Then we'll have to carve it into you!"

A maid screamed and dropped her tray, and in a wild stampede of feet the other patrons pressed against the walls, gaping at the spectacle before them. The barkeep hollered at the combatants to drop their weapons, but a throwing knife thudded into the wall next to his head, encouraging him to duck down behind the counter and keep quiet.

Leaping back, Ozias snatched his bow and quiver, but his companion held out an arm.

"Leave it to me," Muramasa said, taking up his shield.

"We cannot cause trouble here."

"Except these men won't let us walk out now."

Ozias opened his mouth to suggest making a run for it, when one of the men launched himself at Muramasa, who simply bashed him in the head with the shield, dropping him. Howling, the other three charged at once, but with swift steps and turns that belied his frame, he knocked them all senseless one after the other.

The other humans stared, whispering to each other, and the barkeep poked his head up. Knowing it was wiser to escape, the two pawns collected their belongings. Ozias left the proper amount of coins on the table before dashing out the door after his companion.

Having nowhere else to go, they took several twists and turns through the streets before slowing to a walk. Ozias glanced behind them and couldn't detect any sounds of pursuit. Considering how hard Muramasa smacked the men, none of them were likely to regain consciousness until morning.

A familiar silence settled over them. Muramasa was not very talkative. Ozias found it entertaining to chatter with the Arisen, but not so much with a pawn who didn't always respond to attempts at conversation.

"Back there at the tavern," the strider said, shooting a sideways look at his companion, "not only did you strike back at the humans, you also smiled."

"My master dislikes it when I do not react to insults. So he taught me what to do, and I made it a habit." A brief pause. "'Tis a strange sensation, to move your mouth like the humans do, but they respond strongly and I cannot deny its effectiveness."

"Your master must care very much for pawns, then. But are you not aware of the risks?"

"If they strike the first blow, we are entitled to strike back, he said. Pawns we may be, but we have a human shape, and we can use that to our advantage."

"Ah," he murmured. "'Tis that reason, and that reason alone that humans attempt to treat us as their own."

Muramasa cocked his head. "Does _your_ master not hold the same views?"

"She has always been kind to me and other pawns. I daresay she finds pawns more interesting than her fellows. She abhors ill treatment of us and has intervened on many occasions."

"'Twould be wise to consider defending yourself next time some rowdy humans assault you."

"Only if it pleases her," he retorted.

A nagging, tingling feeling swelled at the back of his mind. The Arisen. She was calling for him.

"Master," he gasped. "Something is wrong!"

"We cannot enter the castle," Muramasa stated with infuriating simplicity.

"Wait, she…appears to be near the aqueduct."

"Then let us make haste."

Reaching the canal cutting through the city, they clambered down the ladder and leaped across the broken stones to the slums. The bedraggled humans huddling around small fires paid the visitors no mind, too focused on protecting themselves against the chill of the cold night, their location so near the water making it worse. They were the poorest of the poor, the invisible citizens of the city, forgotten amongst the rats.

It was his first time seeing the slums in person, but he spared nary a glance at the humans. The Arisen was his first priority.

As they wound through a dank, grimy passage, an iron gate squeaked open and a familiar figure lurched out, clinging to the bars to keep her balance.

"Master!" Ozias cried, rushing to her side. "You're injured! What happened?"

With a groan, she slid down against the wall, dropping her bundle of clothing and weaponry. "I just want to go back to the inn. Please."

"Those are prisoner's rags," Muramasa said. "Were you arrested?"

"Aye, but 'tis not the time to discuss it." She hissed in pain as Ozias helped her to her feet, favouring her backside. "A rotting pox on that warden! Should we meet again, I'd like to whip _him_ until the skin falls off his back!"

The larger pawn crouched down in front of them. "I'll carry her, Ozias. She is in no condition to walk, let alone jump."

"I'll take that offer," the Arisen said, and with that she climbed onto his back. "I apologize for being filthy."

"'Tis no inconvenience."

They made an odd sight as they returned to the Union Inn. As the hour was late, they let themselves in through the back door to avoid piquing the interest of anyone who might be in the front ("I pray we do not encounter Asalam," the Arisen remarked), and slipped into their room without being seen.

There, the Arisen tore off the stinking rags and hurled them out the window without a second thought, not caring that she left herself in her undergarments. Ozias, never having seen his master in such a terrible mood before, scurried up and down the stairs to fetch water, cloth and bandages. Horrible red welts marred her backside, some oozing blood and crusted black. Some twinge of darkness rose up for a moment inside him. His jaw tightened as he cleaned the wounds, while the Arisen sat there sullenly and bore the pain without flinching.

"What happened at the castle, Arisen?" Muramasa asked.

"Aeli—The Duchess requested an audience with me," she answered. "I was told to meet her in her bedchamber at night. As luck would have it, we heard footsteps and she bade me hide. It was the Duke. But…he was not acting himself, and I do not believe now that he was sane. Kept shouting for a Lenore to forgive him and then started to strangle the Duchess."

"He did that? For no reason at all?" Ozias exclaimed.

"I couldn't let him murder her, so I stepped out from my hiding place. He seemed to return to his senses then and had no memory of what he'd just done. As for the rest, well…" The Arisen winced. "Shall we agree that she saved us both from immediate execution, and I suffered these wounds gladly on her behalf. She helped me escape afterwards."

"Master, why did you go if the risk of trouble was so great?"

A brief pause. "'Tis something a pawn would have difficulty understanding. Your kind is unfamiliar with the notion of attraction to another."

 _That_ subject. A bond that surpassed friendship, causing two humans to remain together, and in some cases becoming the foundation of a family, producing children.

"We know of it as it applies to humans," he said, "but pawns have no desire for such things. We are but solitary wanderers, roaming from one world to the next through the Rift."

She cocked her head. "Tell me, Ozias, do pawns form relationships among themselves? At all?"

"Humans complicate matters—thinking we understand them when they are the ones who do not. 'Tis always a pawn who understands another. We do speak and share knowledge. And sometimes 'tis safer to travel in a group than alone in territories marked by monsters."

"But you do not feel anything, then. Never glad for company, never sad when you part ways with companions?"

"Those are human ways, Master. Coming and going is as natural as leaves blowing in the wind. The world is vast, as are the worlds beyond this one."

The Arisen seemed at a loss of words, but Ozias knew that she did not agree with his views. She chose to remain quiet, perhaps out of respect.

Then Muramasa spoke. "'Tis the Arisen, however, who gives us purpose."

Ozias darted him a sideways glance. It seemed the fighter was more adept at speaking the way humans understood, and knew more about their thought patterns and customs than he let on.

"A 'purpose' is one of many human beliefs," he countered. "We have no such things."

"You cannot deny this. Surely you have noticed that we pawns blessed enough to be chosen by an Arisen become different from their fellows."

"I…I wouldn't know that."

"The big oaf is right," the Arisen remarked. "You seem to enjoy yourself more and more whenever we speak out on the road. But perhaps 'tis only my perception of you, and not the truth."

Had he really displayed such behaviour? Strange—he'd never _felt_ anything when conversing with his master, but she obviously noticed.

"Perhaps he does not realize it, himself," Muramasa said.

"What would you know?" Ozias snapped. "Mind your tongue!"

Craning her head around, the Arisen stared at him. "Are you _angry_?"

He stared back. Yes, he knew a little about anger. It was what caused those rowdy men at the tavern to attack them. It was…that spark inside of him whenever something attempted to harm the Arisen, or when he saw her injured, like now. But Muramasa had simply made an observation, as any pawn was wont to do—there was no reason to be angry at _that_. The irrationality of it was perplexing.

Most of all, that irrationality had come from _him_ , for no reason at all. At least, no reason he understood.

"I fear I am not myself," he said at last. "I'm sorry, Master. Perhaps seeing you in such a state is affecting me."

"Don't fret," she murmured. "Strange, though, to see you angry."

"I'll not trouble you," Muramasa said, and left without another word.

In the silence, Ozias finished cleaning his master's injuries and wrapped bandages all around her backside. It would be some time before the wounds healed adequately for her to go about normally again.

"You must rest, Master."

"I'll gladly do that." Crossing over to her bed, she plopped down on it. "You ought to turn in for the night, as well."

Of course he would obey—it brought some sense of normalcy back to him. "If there is aught you need, wake me."


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, Ozias checked on his master. She didn't want to move around too much, as it hurt her back, and stayed in bed.

"Perhaps I should find a doctor?" he said uncertainly.

She waved a dismissive hand and winced. "Give me a week. I'll not let you be confined here with naught to do. Go out and enjoy the city."

There it was. _Enjoy_ the city. Telling him to _feel_ something. Shopping for supplies and sharpening weapons he could do, but as for enjoying something, he hadn't the slightest idea. Time and again he'd reminded her that such commands were superfluous, but she never listened.

"I don't like the thought of leaving you alone here, Master."

"Come now, what could possibly happen? The dragon will drop out of the sky and sit on me?"

"Master…"

"Just go, Ozias. If our supplies need looking after I trust you to handle it. After all, isn't wandering what pawns do best?"

So he left, although he didn't appreciate her japes very much (it was strange that he thought so), and stepped outside into the fresh air. The city was stirring to life, with merchants in the fountain square bustling about setting up the day's wares, and the occasional guard completing their circuit.

Without the Arisen's orders, he didn't know what to do or where to go. Wander indeed—as he had for all his existence prior to meeting the Arisen. And it was a kind of existence he did not want to return to.

Heaving a sigh, he let his feet take him where they may. It was not a surprise to him that he ended up at the pawn guild, the only place in the city where pawns were welcome and could congregate with their own kind.

As he drew close, a familiar shape perched on a nearby rooftop caught his eye. Approaching the house, he vaulted off a barrel and swung himself up onto the roof, boots clicking off the shingles.

"You have sharp eyes," Muramasa remarked as the other pawn joined him. "What brings you here? I thought you were taking care of the Arisen?"

"She felt that she didn't need to be taken care of," he answered, dropping down. "Told me to go and wander."

Muramasa laughed. "Your master has quite the sense of humour."

Ozias stared at him. Sometimes this pawn played the part of being human a little _too_ well. "I did not mean to speak rudely to you yesterday. I apologize."

"'Tis nothing."

"You have your own master, yes? And I can tell that you aren't from this world. Even your name is foreign. Why are you here, so far from home, aiding my master instead?"

For a while, the fighter didn't answer, then drew in a deep breath. "My master…halted his journey to regain his heart. He wanted to live, to forget about the dragon for a short while. So he bade me return to the Rift, and once he was ready to take up arms again he would call for me. Now I am here fulfilling his wish."

"Will he ever call for you?"

"I shall never know."

"Is it…difficult for you, then?"

The gaze of the other pawn met his. "You know as well as I, that there is no other place I would rather be than at my master's side."

"Why not return to him?"

"Because his desire was for me to leave him, to travel far and wide and aid other Arisen in their endeavours."

It was a strange command to give a pawn. An Arisen should always want to keep their pawn nearby. Ozias could not understand the motivation behind such a wish, and resolved to ask his master later. She would know how to explain it to him.

"And what of you, Ozias? Have you traveled long with your master?"

"It has been some time since we first set out from Cassardis. Now that she is in the Duke's employ, gathering funds is easier. 'Tis hard work." He heaved a sigh. "A drake was sighted too near to the city, and she accepted the task of slaying it, or at least driving it away. I do not know how she will accomplish this now that she is hurt."

"'Twill be a fearsome foe."

"Master is strong. She will not falter. If we cannot slay the drake, how could we hope to best the dragon?"

Ozias whiled away some of the hours on the rooftop, but Muramasa showed no signs of moving. Restless, Ozias wandered back into the city to observe the human life and browse for goods. Though he wished to explore outside of Gran Soren, it would be safer when he had company.

When night fell, he gladly returned to the inn—perhaps the Arisen might give him more interesting things to do. He found her pacing around in the room, trying to stretch her legs and wincing and cursing all the while.

"You did not run into any trouble, I hope?" she asked as he changed her bandages.

"No." He still hadn't told her about the bar brawl they'd gotten into; 'twas not a good time for such a tale. "Master, I have a question for you."

"Oh, I do like it when you have questions!"

"I spoke to Muramasa today. About his master. He told me...his master sent him away, to help other Arisen, and that one day his master would call him home. I cannot understand why. Might you explain it to me better?"

The Arisen remained silent for a few minutes. Maybe she was just as perplexed as he was. Muramasa's master must be odd indeed, to cause such confusion even with a fellow human.

"I think," she said slowly, "I know what his master's intent was. An Arisen's most loyal, most constant companion is their pawn. This is true, is it not? So he should not want to send Muramasa so far away."

"Yes, Master. I understood that much."

"'Tis clear to me what his master desired for him. Freedom." A sigh. "'Twould seem that his master may not intend to pursue the dragon after all, and only wanted what was best for his pawn. At least, what he thought was best for his pawn."

Freedom. Again, another human concept, perhaps the most difficult one to understand, since its definition was the absence of servitude, a casting-off of the duties and obligations that their world forced them to abide by.

"I am sorry, Master. 'Tis too difficult for me to comprehend."

"I am well aware. Muramasa does not appreciate it either, as he is still carrying out his master's command instead of being truly free."

"Freedom has no meaning for us."

"But you and your kind are a free people, are you not?"

"Nothing gives us greater joy than to obey the commands of the Arisen. There is a force now, a will that directs us. No longer do we meander about." He paused. "I suppose what Muramasa said was right. 'Tis the Arisen who give us purpose. Thus, freedom is not for our kind. Freedom is naught but a burden."

The Arisen hesitated. "What you say is...very odd."

"'Tis the truth."

Afterwards, she did not speak again. He wanted to apologize, but decided against it and tied the last strip of bandages into place. He excused himself from her presence and left the inn. A twinge of discomfort and...something he recognized as _unhappiness_ , still lodged in his breast.

That happened occasionally. Ever since traveling at the Arisen's side, there were times when he _did_ feel things briefly. Things that no normal pawn would ever experience, like becoming angry at another pawn's remark. The Arisen, of course, got excited whenever he reported feeling something, and pelted him with question after question in order to get him to put that feeling into words so she could tell him what it was. Over time, he'd built up some knowledge of these feelings and their names. But experiencing these odd flashes of emotion was something he would never be comfortable with.

He didn't know what to do to make the unhappiness fade. A distraction might be enough. So once again, he returned to the pawn guild. The smell of freshly-cooked meat and soups wafted through the night air towards him. His stomach snarled. The pawn guild glowed with many warm fire-lights and the drone of chatter faded in and out. What was going on there?

It seemed all the pawns in the city had decided to gather for a feast. Numerous cooking fires strung with pots, pans, meat, and vegetables clustered near the entrance of the building where there was more space, along with barrels of ale. All around, pawns cooked, ate, drank, and shared tales of their journeys with each other. Some of the more energetic ones demonstrated various trophies from battles, equipment they found, or even showed off battle scars.

Ozias wove in through the crowd. The other pawns studied him—some curiously, others indifferently, and he ignored them. Whether he liked it or not, his status as the Arisen's personal pawn preceded him. Many could only dream for such a chance, to travel at the Arisen's side, to be tied directly to a master through servitude.

A familiar tall shape waved and he hurried over. It was a chance to forget the multitude of eyes following his movements.

"You showed up at last, friend," Muramasa remarked, swilling his tankard.

Fetching himself a drink, Ozias sat next to him on the grass. "What is the occasion?"

"The guildmaster was bored, I suppose. Come, you seem hungry." A hand nudged a plate still heaped with steaming hot food. "'Tis yours if you don't object to my tastes. I already ate, but made a bit too much."

"Overestimated your stomach this time?" Ozias sank his teeth into a chicken drumstick.

"Is your master faring better?"

"The wounds aren't as bad as they were yesterday."

For several hours into the night, the two pawns relaxed, listening to stories from the others and swapping information about monster sightings or changes in the land. Of particular interest was the drake—it still roamed about too close to Gran Soren for comfort, but no one dared confront it. Judging from what the other travelers had seen, it remained away from the main roads, within a forest, but it was only a matter of time before it overcame any fear of humans.

When the two pawns decided to leave, it was very late, and just as they reached the top of the hill leading back to the fountain square, Muramasa turned back, having forgotten a crop of greenwarish and pollen he had gathered during the day. Alone, Ozias scarcely took a few steps before a group of men closed in around him. He hunched down, hands resting on the pommels of his daggers. Each of the men sported a bandage around their heads, and those few who didn't displayed angry red welts to the world. These were the thugs who had attacked them yesterday.

"We was waitin' for you," said one, drawing his sword. "'Twould be nicer if that big lout was here too, but we can start with you."

With a hiss of steel, Ozias drew his own weapons. The men stepped closer, eager for revenge. In the street beyond, framed by the archway, a pair of guards stepped into view and glanced in the direction of the ensuing fight. Then they turned away and moved on. He couldn't count on them for help—they didn't care, and never would, where pawns were concerned. After all, pawns couldn't die.

If he killed or injured these men, even in self-defense, he stood to receive punishment alongside them. The Arisen had enough trouble already, and he needn't cause her more.

So he spun about, intending to slip away and seek refuge at the pawn guild, but a throwing knife thudded into his calf and brought him to the ground. He rolled and lashed out with a dagger. Someone yelled as the metal snagged into flesh. Before he could regain his feet, another man stabbed him in the back. Crying out, Ozias flailed at his attackers to no avail. A boot smashed into his head. Sparks shot up in his vision and he collapsed, unable to hear anything but a ringing noise. Just more pain, and distant thumping impacts as feet made vicious contact with his body. A dagger plunged deep between his ribs, then tore itself out and went in again. And again. He had no breath left to scream.

Then the feet withdrew, leaving him bruised and bleeding and coughing on the ground. Lifting his head, he expected further injury, but stared instead into the back of a pawn's cloak.

"Ah, look who's here," jeered one of the men. "Come to rescue your useless friend?"

"Do you know what you've done?" Muramasa asked. "This is the Arisen's personal pawn. You don't fear her bringing the duke's wrath down on your head?"

"Bah, Arisen this, Arisen that! You think we believe you?"

"That's right!" cried another man. "Besides, there's so many of you blighters, she can just pick another one, can't she?"

Wheezing, Ozias tried to get up. His companion's head shifted in his direction.

"'Tis best you don't strain yourself," Muramasa said. "I'll see to them."

It was five against one. Ignoring the other pawn's advice, Ozias struggled once more to rise to his feet. The pain brought him back to the ground.

Five against one, just like it had been that first time in the tavern. If Muramasa could take them all at once, he could do it again.

Ozias drifted. Voices shouted. Metal shrieked and rebounded. The sounds were distant, muddy. He lay there as darkness swirled around him. Ah, yes, the beckoning of the Rift, the reassurance of restoration and simply returning where he'd been before disaster struck. Then, as if taken away by the currents, he rocked and floated, weightless. Just as abruptly, whatever was carrying him deposited him...somewhere. Warmth buzzed across his body, easing the pain of his injuries, and green lights swam and flickered before his vision.

He wanted to rest, just for a moment...


	3. Chapter 3

_The Arisen stood next to the riftstone, surveying the multitude of pawns who knelt before her. Curious onlookers from the encampment outside poked their heads in._

 _He kept his gaze respectfully lowered. Her footsteps creaked across the wooden boards, back and forth as she examined each row of pawns crammed into the small space. Closer and closer, until she stopped before him._

 _In all his existence he'd never_ felt _anything. He had not the least idea what_ feeling _was. He was just like all his fellow pawns—lacking emotion and unable to act without direction. And he survived as all pawns did, wandering from one world to the next, traveling through the Rift, finding others of his kind and working as the occasional sellsword or hunting monsters for bounties. He simply...existed._

 _But now, with the Arisen of Cassardis standing before him, something flickered inside his chest, made his breath catch with the suddeness and the strangeness of it._

 _He knew then, that she would choose him as her one constant companion, binding him in service to her until she achieved her mission, or her death ended their relationship._

" _The voices of the pawn legion bade me choose one of you." Her voice caused yet another flicker of that_ something _deep inside his chest. "I feel...'tis you."_

 _Lifting his head, he gazed deep into violet eyes. "Your will is the will of all pawns in this world, Arisen. If your desire is for me to accompany you on your journey, then I shall gladly do whatever you wish."_

 _She stared at him. "How is it that you swear fealty so easily? How can you abandon everything you were doing, and accompany me?"_

 _It seemed she did not yet understand pawns and their ways. "My existence before is of no consequence. 'Tis my wish, and the wish of all pawns to aid and serve you. You are the Arisen. You are all that matters."_

 _The Arisen blinked, perhaps having some difficulty understanding him, then heaved a sigh. "Very well. Come, we've a long road ahead."_

" _At once, Master." That_ something _made him leap to his feet with far more energy than he intended._

" _Oh dear. 'Twill be some time before I grow accustomed to that. What is your name, good pawn?"_

" _Ozias. I am honoured to serve you." As he raised his hand, his pawn mark glowed brightly, and a faint pulse shone through the clothing on her chest in response._

 _She tilted her head and smiled. "I'm certain you'll insist on calling me Master anyway, but you should know my name too..."_

#

Ozias opened his eyes. The ceiling of the pawn guild greeted his blurry vision. The riftstone hummed next to him. Someone had carried him here so that the stone could heal his wounds.

"You're awake, friend." Muramasa. The large pawn sat next to Ozias, and from his posture, seemed like he'd been there for some time.

Ozias eased himself up. "You...those men..."

"Ran out of the city, they did. I did not kill them. Though this time I wasn't so generous and left them some nice wounds to remember me by."

"You have my gratitude. But 'twas unnecessary to bring me here."

Muramasa looked at him then with a strange expression, and shrugged. "'Twould have been trouble had you returned to the Rift. The Arisen would be worried by the time you found your way back."

With a gasp, Ozias scrambled to his feet. "We must return to the inn at once! No doubt she's wondering where I am!"

He streaked out of the pawn guild, Muramasa loping after him, and pounded up the hill, through the fountain square, and into the inn.

The Arisen, sitting in her bed, lifted her head as they entered.

"My deepest apologies, Master," Ozias said, bending to catch his breath. "I did not mean to be away for so long."

"I was wondering when you'd return. What happened?"

"I...we..."

"Barnaby decided to host a great feast," Muramasa said, "so we were at the pawn guild conversing with our fellows and lost track of time."

Ozias was at a loss. He'd wanted dearly to tell his master about the relentless thugs, but now the other pawn had gone and made a mess of it.

The Arisen laughed. "Ah, so even pawns see the value in gathering together. I would not have expected that of Barnaby and I sorely regret being unable to attend. 'Tis tempting for me to ask if you enjoyed yourselves."

"Master—" Ozias began.

"'I lack emotions and 'tis a pointless question.' I know, Ozias, I know." With that, she flopped down and yawned. "All's well, then. I'm going to sleep."

He cast a glance at Muramasa, who simply shrugged and left for his own room. There was still a chance to speak the truth before the Arisen drifted off to sleep, but when he looked upon her, she seemed so tired.

Well, he reasoned, the thugs had fled the city and would not be back, especially after their sound defeat. Surely there was no harm in keeping quiet about them. And he would rather not burden the Arisen with unnecessary worry. She was always more concerned than she ought to be whenever he was hurt.

So he put his weapons aside and settled down in bed. A small discomfort still gnawed away at him. He shut his eyes and sought the tranquil blankness of unfeeling. The discomfort lingered for some time, longer than usual, before it faded away and left him in peace.

#

In the morning, the Arisen dressed fully and strapped on her daggers. If her injuries still pained her, she showed no sign of it.

"Master?" Ozias asked. "Are you certain you should be moving about?"

"I am utterly, intolerably, _devastatingly_ bored. I feel as though my muscle has withered away after spending so much time abed. If I don't go about the city and do _something_ , I shall perish! And the Duke expects me to slay a drake!" She flung on her purple neck-wrap. "Come, Ozias, walk with me."

"What of Muramasa?"

"Ack, let that big oaf sleep."

So they descended the stairs to the main floor of the inn, just the two of them, like how it had been when they'd first left the encampment together, months ago now.

"Boredom, is it," he murmured.

"Surely you don't need that explained to you? 'Tis how you felt before you met me. I doubt you enjoyed a pointless existence either."

He pondered that as they walked through the quiet streets, bathed in the glow of early morning light. She spoke the truth, of course. But he'd spent most of his existence in that state. She, only several days at most.

"I suppose humans are easily bored," he concluded.

To this, the Arisen only laughed.

They took a path down to Venery, in a familiar direction, and they were quiet then. The Arisen's strides spoke of purpose, and so Ozias followed without asking. Something flickered and welled up inside his chest—a sort of warmth, a sort of relief. Experience told him it was one of those odd in-between emotions, and not merely happiness.

"'Tis good to be with you again, Master," he said quietly.

"You are glad, then. So am I."

They reached the top of the wall overlooking the aqueduct. Here, she held out a hand.

"We shall not go farther. Come here and look."

He obeyed and gazed down towards the broken stones. A skinny child kicked at the water flowing through, while some of the women washed their clothes. Some of the poor deeper inside still slept on the cold ground, huddled in nothing but their clothing.

Ah, so the Arisen hadn't merely wanted a walk. She had brought him here to teach him something, as she often did, attempting to bridge the differences between their thinking. To shape him to fit her ideals, as was her right. Sometimes he gained new insights, other times it only left both of them confused.

"Muramasa and I passed through here to rescue you," he said. "'Tis the place where the poorest of the poor dwell."

"Aye. They can't even afford one of the hovels in the slums. And so they've made their homes here."

"Can't they change their lot somehow, Master?"

"Life is not so simple. If their problems could be solved with honest work, they would no longer be here. We are not born fighters and mages like you are." She turned towards him. "Do pawns know poverty?"

"No. 'Tis easy for us to find work. There is always a beast or two plaguing a road, always a warren of goblins breeding like rabbits, always a group of bandits causing too much trouble. And should we choose to fight in an army, our needs are provided for. Poverty is unfamiliar to us."

She cocked her head and said, "Would you improve someone else's lot, then?"

"I don't understand."

"Say, perhaps, you've a pouch full of coin and 'twould last you quite some time. Then you see one of the poor folk and, wishing to ease their hardship, you spare them some of your wealth."

"What would motivate you to do such a thing?"

"'Tis called charity. 'Tis kindness, and a desire to aid others less fortunate than you."

Ozias thought for a moment. "The times you stopped humans from mistreating other pawns...would that also be charity?"

Her eyes glinted, the way they did when she knew he understood. "Charity is not simply giving to the poor. 'Tis helping others, in any way, with no benefit to yourself, simply because you see them in a bad spot and you can do something about it."

"Then, Master, would you like me to be more charitable?"

The Arisen grimaced. He knew _that_ well too. She did it when he failed to understand some human peculiarity, or when he asked a question she couldn't answer or refute.

"Ozias, do you not have your own thoughts on the matter?"

"No. What would you have me think?"

She put her hands on her hips. "When you ask me how you should speak, or how you ought to behave towards others, I can understand since you've no experience with such matters. But do you mean to tell me that pawns do not understand compassion? Sympathy?"

"If I were to see someone on the road being attacked by goblins, I would slay the goblins. 'Tis the _proper_ thing to do. I do not understand what charity has to do with it. Master, you fall into that trap again. I must remind you that I am a pawn."

The Arisen looked hard into his eyes, then let out a sigh. "Yes. Yes, of course."

"Would you like me to be more charitable?"

"No. Carry on as you are, but remember this conversation. Let's return to the inn. Perhaps the big oaf has awakened and is wondering where we've gone."

The lesson was over, but it left him perplexed. She had taken the time to explain charity to him, made it sound important and something to aspire to, then told him not to pursue it. Odd indeed.

Charity. Ozias revisited their conversation as they followed the streets.

Suppose that because of charity, Muramasa's master had ordered him to travel through the worlds, aiding other Arisen and their pawns in their journeys. And so Muramasa was here, lending his strength to Ozias and _his_ Arisen. They were the ones benefiting from this charity, while Muramasa and his Arisen gained nothing for their trouble. When he thought about it like that, he understood—a little.

#

The Arisen took her bow and quiver, and told them to go see to supplies for an adventure. Tomorrow, they would visit the forest where the drake made its home and observe their foe before returning. With that, she departed to the training grounds within the duke's walls.

So Ozias and Muramasa counted up the supplies, and went around the city to complete preparations for the journey ahead.

"The water from the healing spring would save us some coin," Muramasa remarked as they left the apothecary. "Especially with your master in such a state. 'Tis a short jaunt, surely she won't miss us."

"I will ask her if we can set out earlier tomorrow. We can fetch the water then." It wasn't leaving without his master's permission that made him uncomfortable, or the danger on the roads, but rather the thought of running into those thugs again.

The other pawn grunted in acknowledgment. They stopped at the blacksmith's to sharpen their weapons, and Ozias purchased an extra bundle of arrows. Having nothing left to do, they started on the path towards the castle to wait for the Arisen.

Ozias darted a glance at his companion. "I would like to ask...what do you know about charity?"

Muramasa's head tilted but he didn't answer.

"Master took me to the aqueduct yesterday, where the city's poorest dwell, and explained that concept to me. It sounded important and something admirable to her, but she forbade me from pursuing it when I asked."

Again, silence.

Something stirred in him, made him heave a sigh. "You don't know? Or does your master not appreciate hearing you speak?"

"My master told me that he likes it when I listen to him. 'Tis a habit of mine."

"You have a lot of habits."

"As do you, I'm sure. Charity is very difficult to understand. Perhaps you know of selfishness?"

"Master explained it as deliberately eating all the food herself and leaving none for her companions. And the opposite of that would be giving her companions all the food, or taking very little for herself. Are you saying charity is a form of selflessness?"

"Aye, and you will find this intriguing. My master said once that pawns are _always selfless_ when it comes dealing with Arisen."

"Always—" He frowned. "But how can that be? Isn't selflessness something you are supposed to feel?"

"What is your first decision when something attacks the Arisen?"

"To protect her, of course."

"There. That's a pawn's selflessness."

"Surely not. We support the Arisen any way we can because 'tis _proper_. The Arisen is the single most important existence. We are pawns, and we obey. Selflessness is not something we would know."

Muramasa gave him a look and said simply, "You had a question and I answered."

A spark flared up in Ozias's chest. It felt like that time when he'd snapped at the other pawn for making an observation. He drew in a breath and sought tranquility, but it lingered like a goblin chewing at a limb.

Muramasa had many habits indeed. And making Ozias angry was one of them.


	4. Chapter 4

The Arisen agreed that a trip to the healing spring to the northwest of the city would be useful, so the following morning they set out after a hearty breakfast. The sun was rising, painting the sky magenta with streaks of yellow. Out here on the roads, away from the hustle and bustle of Gran Soren, with naught but the breeze and the flutter of birds, Ozias could flex and roam again. As long as he was traveling with his master, he had no qualms.

They passed among the toppled stones not far from the city walls, and he looked over his shoulder. Nothing was out of the ordinary. 'Twas nerves, perhaps, so he attempted to still the discomfort crawling up his backside.

Crossing the bridge, the three veered westward, off the road and deeper into the forest. The sound of gurgling water grew louder and the trees parted to reveal the healing spring and the magnificent, pure white rock in its middle. They stopped and remained still, listening, and only when they were certain no hobgoblins were about did they lean down to fill up their flasks.

"Suppose that dead cyclops must be raising a tremendous stench by now," Muramasa remarked.

The Arisen grinned. "Aye. 'Twas a fine scrap, that. Exhilarating, even."

"Master, please," Ozias said, "bounties give decent coin, but you shouldn't make a habit of killing every brute you come across."

"Bah! I took down one of those by myself before we even met. Size and brawn are all they've got, but they're a menace when prodded along by those silly goblins. Best that we exterminate them before some poor traveler ends up in a stewpot. But do you know what my greatest regret is? Not being able to find that hydra."

Muramasa chuckled. "Your ambition, ser, knows no bounds. You've yet to slay a drake and you want to hunt for a hydra?"

"That ought to impress the dragon, at least."

"If you continue like this, you shall take over the throne before you even set foot in the dragon's territory."

She laughed. "A pawn with a sense of humour is rare indeed!"

Again, that spark seared through Ozias like an ember that had just flared up. He turned away, bewildered, not knowing why his emotional state had been so _strange_ lately. There was absolutely no reason for him to become angry at Muramasa for bantering with the Arisen. None at all. But _why_?

If it had only happened once, and never again, he would have thought nothing of it. But to experience it thrice within such a short time? Something was wrong...with himself. He resolved to ask his master once they had some time alone.

As they walked back towards Gran Soren, the anger thankfully left him, but his mind churned. Suppose the problem was not with him, but with Muramasa, who could be so human-like at times. Perhaps seeing such un-pawn-like behaviour was affecting Ozias too?

The Arisen held up a hand. "Wait. Do you see that?"

On the side of the road lay a figure. The air swirled above it, as if preparing to suck the figure inside.

"'Tis a pawn," Ozias said. "Expired, it seems."

The Arisen sprinted towards the figure, while her pawns drew their weapons and followed, their eyes scanning their surroundings. Ozias felt he already knew who had killed the poor pawn, and nocked an arrow to his bow.

They caught up with the Arisen, who knelt beside the body as it dissolved away into the small space of Rift above it. Her eyes burned.

Muramasa lunged in front of her, shield leading, and a solid _thwack_ rang through the air as an arrow sprouted from the reinforced wood. Ozias lifted his bow, arrow drawn, watching as a familiar group of thugs emerged from their hiding places among the broken stones.

"Well, well," drawled one, "if it ain't the blighters that have been giving us a hard time. Brought the Arisen with you this time, eh?"

The Arisen rose to her feet, bow in hand. "Shooting at me was unwise."

"We wasn't aiming for _you_ , lass." The man spat on the ground. "Rather, the _thing_ that just disappeared."

"Pawn or not, she was innocent."

"Come now, we just thought we'd try and have a good time with her. But as it turns out, they don't even squeal or scream, so it wasn't fun at all. You, on the other hand, are a much better prize."

"Master," Ozias growled.

"Too bad," the thug continued with a smirk. "If it had been these two we could have had our revenge and that would be that, but now that _you're_ here too—"

The Arisen yanked the arrow from Muramasa's shield and fired. The thug's head snapped backwards as the arrow speared him through the mouth, and he thudded to the ground.

"I tire of hearing this scum prattle on," the Arisen said, drawing another arrow from her quiver. "Destroy them as you see fit!"

Muramasa charged, and the other two provided covering fire while advancing. Ozias's arrow found its mark, burying itself in the chest of the thug with the bow. With that threat removed, he and his master easily sniped the others. Muramasa's blade gleamed as it whirled through the air, deflected other swords and chopped into flesh. Now that he no longer had to hold back, his true prowess as a fighter was a sight to behold.

Within moments, it was quiet again, the thugs' bodies strewn about the grass.

"I dislike giving gifts to goblins," the Arisen said coldly, slinging her bow back on her shoulder, "but today they shall feast. I regret we weren't able to save that poor pawn."

"Pawns do not die, Master. She has probably returned to the roads already, or gone to another world."

She turned to him, her eyes solemn...perhaps sad. "You do not die, that is true. But you do suffer."

He bowed his head. "Aye."

"'Tis unspeakable what these men tried to do to her. No pawn should ever be harmed in such a way." The Arisen heaved a sigh and looked at them. "The bandits spoke as if they knew you. What was this talk about revenge?"

At last, Ozias had his chance to recount everything that happened between him, Muramasa, and the thugs. As he spoke, he watched his master's face. A frown here, a widening of the eyes there, and another frown. She was mostly concerned.

"I am deeply sorry, Master," he said. "I should have told you instead of keeping it from you, but I did not want to worry you when you were injured."

"Was it Muramasa who encouraged you to remain silent?"

"Ser, I did no such thing," the other pawn said.

"Is that so? Two nights ago I clearly remember you talking about Barnaby's banquet and little else. Ozias barely spoke." She put her hands on her hips. "I never thought this possible, but do some pawns make a habit of hiding things from their masters?"

"Never!" Muramasa cried. "Arisen, no pawn would ever do something to your detriment!"

"Spare him," Ozias said. "I had ample opportunity to speak to you, but I thought we would never see them again and so I chose to forget about the matter. The fault is mine."

The Arisen rubbed her head, then grinned. "Troublemakers, both of you." She clapped their shoulders and strode past. "Move, or we won't get there before sundown."

They obeyed and jogged after her. But, Ozias thought, she had been right about one thing. That night, Muramasa had been very quick to hide their most recent encounter with the bandits and force Ozias to remain silent.

He knew what it meant to lie, but few pawns ever had a reason to lie about anything, and certainly none would ever lie to an Arisen. Well, Muramasa hadn't _lied_ , only told part of the truth. Did that pawn's master have something to do with it, teaching him such a thing?

And if so, why?

They reached their destination in peace and did not encounter any other hostile beings, although a griffin passed overhead, but the magnificent creature paid them no attention.

"Tread carefully now," the Arisen said as they entered the copse of trees. "And remember, we are only here to observe."

Creeping into the trees, they spread out and strained eyes and ears. The deeper they got, the quieter it grew. Every step they made was measured, feeling out the ground for any twigs or branches before putting their full weight down.

Although faint, they smelled smoke, and followed the scent until a rhythmic rumbling rattled through the ground. The trees gave way into a clearing, surrounded by broken stumps. In the middle, curled up and with the sunlight soaking into its body, lay the drake. Its burgundy scales glittered in the light, as did its long black talons. Every time it snored, the vibrations quivered through their boots and into their bones.

Ozias and Muramasa looked to the Arisen, who jerked her head. They retreated from the copse and didn't relax until they reached the main road.

"So," the Arisen said, "it has run of the place, sleeping out in the open like that."

"Nothing in its right mind would bother a drake," Ozias remarked.

"No doubt that clearing was its doing, too. The drake is confident, and will only grow bolder with time."

"Are you ready to slay it, Master?"

"I can't dawdle any longer. I need to get back in good favour with the duke. Tomorrow, we make our move."

"Do we return to Gran Soren?" Muramasa glanced at the sky, now darkening orange. "We won't make it before nightfall. We'll have undead snapping at our heels the whole way back."

"Ozias, if we must flee, be sure you use your wire and trip this big oaf."

He blinked. "But he would be eaten."

"Ser," Muramasa said, "you will notice I am not laughing."

"The finer points of humour still evade you both, I'm afraid." Chuckling to herself, she turned. "Fear not, the undead shan't dine on pawns tonight. 'Tis not far to the quarry, let's stay the night there and return to the drake's lair in the morning."

"Your master dearly likes to tease us," Muramasa muttered as they walked.

"'Tis how she is."

The other pawn grunted and was silent. Ozias was glad for that. He understood Muramasa even less than before. Until he was able to ask the Arisen's advice, it was fine not having to speak to Muramasa.

They reached the quarry, exchanged greetings with the guards and went inside. The Arisen made use of her status to get them some food and drink and a place to rest until morning. They sharpened their weapons and tweaked bowstrings. Ozias kept an eye on Muramasa, waiting until the other pawn stretched out on a makeshift bed.

He got up and stepped over to the Arisen. "Master."

"What's the matter?"

"May we speak in private?"

She would never deny a request like that. They left their little tunnel and went back out into the central chamber.

"So, Ozias, what troubles you?"

"'Tis Muramasa. I fear he confuses me."

The Arisen, for some reason, found that amusing. "Ha! Strange indeed when a pawn claims not to understand another pawn."

"I fail to see the humour in that."

A big sigh. "Yes, yes. Speak then, one observation at a time. What about Muramasa do you find perplexing?"

"He upsets me. When he was bantering with you, I grew angry, and do not know why. 'Tis nothing, for a pawn to make conversation with the Arisen, yet I became angry all the same."

She cocked her head. "You're _jealous_ of him? You, _my_ pawn, jealous of another? Oh dear. The drake is the least of my worries now!"

"What is jealousy?"

"Let us speak of goblins, they ought to excel in jealousy. Say that the goblin chief has ruled the pack for some time, and some young upstart covets that position for himself and does everything he can to wrest the right to rule from the chief. 'Tis an emotion akin to anger, but not quite the same. Covetousness drives jealousy."

"Is it what prompts thieves to steal?"

"Aye."

"But I do not covet anything from Muramasa."

"Then why would you be jealous? Was it because you saw how well he and I were getting along, and found yourself lacking? Did you feel your own position threatened?" A pause. "He behaves more like a human than you do, and you think I like him better because of that. Is that why?"

Something surged like a hot wave through him. It was so abrupt, overwhelming, and painful that he gasped and clenched a hand against his chest.

The Arisen touched his shoulder. "Ozias?"

He couldn't answer. The strong flurry of emotion burned without pause. This had never happened before. _Nothing_ was ever this strong. He was afraid, afraid to even open his mouth, because in that moment his entire being changed. He _wanted..._ to say many different things at once. 'Twas a wild jumble of thoughts that all wanted speaking.

 _Yes, Master, I see you laughing with him in a way you do not laugh with me—Muramasa is unlike any other pawn, what do you see in him?—no, Master, it does not bother me in the slightest—would you wish me to be more like Muramasa?_

And none of those thoughts were logical or calm. It was this maddening emotion prompting him to act.

That was what he didn't like. _He was not himself._

Both the Arisen's hands gripped his shoulders now. "Ozias. Be calm. Breathe deeply and be calm."

He still couldn't move. His body shook with the effort of keeping silent, of trying to stop the painful torrent. For the first time in a long while, he was afraid. Genuinely, awfully afraid. Would it stop if he visited the Rift? He didn't know what to do to calm down, except to stand there and wait and hope it would be over so he could slip back into the familiar comfort of blankness. At least then, he knew he had control over himself and his actions.

The Arisen shook her head and pushed on his shoulders. "Sit. Your knees are trembling so much."

Ozias let his legs fold under him and tucked himself into a ball. His master knelt next to him and rubbed his back with her hand. And curiously, that gesture comforted him. He shivered. This was the first time she'd done something like this. It was different than the friendly slaps she so often gave. The storm in his chest receded and drained away into something more bearable. He sucked in a deep breath.

"Do you feel better?" the Arisen asked. "What happened? You're pale as bones and I've never seen you so distraught."

"I don't know. All of a sudden there was a surge of emotion the likes of which I've never felt before. It was powerful and painful. There were so many things I wanted to say to you, things that contradicted each other. I still cannot make sense of them."

The Arisen hesitated. "Were they about Muramasa?"

"I...yes. Oh, Master, forgive me. I don't understand what's happening to me. It makes me afraid. Of myself, and of Muramasa. All this trouble started after he joined us."

"He is blameless in this. Humans change when they form friendships with others. 'Tis natural, what is happening to you." A sideways glance. "Does this mean you are becoming more human?"

"I do not wish it, if it means dealing with these horrible emotions day in and day out."

She chuckled, and stretched out a hand to pull him to his feet. "Have you forgotten your master is human? I deal with emotions day in and day out, yet I am well as ever. You are unused to it, that's all. Come, you ought to rest."

Ozias nodded. If it was a chance to forget about emotions, he would take it.


End file.
